Corinna Sherman

Some friends and I got together for a combined Fat Tuesday potluck and Oscar-watching party last Sunday, engaging in a spirited red carpet dress review while feasting on spicy crawfish, onion and jalapeño cornbread, vegetarian jambalaya, shrimp and sausage gumbo over brown rice, and bananas foster. I made the cornbread using a recipe from Veganomicon in a 12″ cast-iron skillet. I don’t actually own a skillet, so I brought the ingredients to the party and used the host’s skillet. I could have used a baking dish at home instead, but there was something incredibly satisfying about sautéing the onions and jalapeños in the skillet on the stovetop and then pouring in the batter and popping the whole thing in the oven to bake. Furthermore, everyone at the party got to eat cornbread fresh and warm from the oven, an undeniable bonus. I’ll be a little more aggressive with the peppers next time to see if I can generate some more heat, since the cornbread turned out quite mild. Now if only I can figure out how to bake an Oscar statuette into a King Cake…

The East Village’s Momofuku bakery & milk bar sounds like a Zen haven for cute Japanese dairy-based desserts, but do not be fooled. The food is unapologetically American, from chocolate chip cheese cake and brownie pie dispensed in ridiculously large slices to cereal milk soft serve.

And Zen ambience? Not even close. The place has all charm of a government office, complete with a number system to manage order processing and a condescending cashier. Pull open the glass front doors stamped with Momofuku’s signature lucky peach, and you will find people clustered around the few high standing tables, all shouting over each other to be heard. Don’t get me wrong; the place is obviously popular, but the name sets some false expectations, and it’s not clear to me why, especially when the nearby Momofuku noodle bar serves things like ramen and kimchi.

Unfortunately, the most intriguing thing on the blackboard menu – pancake cake – was “coming soon,” so I got a slice of the chocolate cake instead. (Who advertises menu items in advance, anyway? Peddlers of disappointment, that’s who.) Eating in the midst of that human crush was out of the question, so I escaped to the tranquility of a nearby Starbucks to devour my treat in peace. The cake was reasonably moist and had a frosting reminiscent of cheesecake but didn’t make much of an impression on me. I might go back if it’s less crowded another time but only to see if that pancake cake proves to be vapor-dessert or the real deal.

Posted via email from corinna’s posterous

I just started taking an online class on freelance writing. The instructor wrote an article a while back called “Chasing the Perfect Taco Up the California Coast.” I can tell this is going to be a good class.

Yesterday I watched the first episode of Joss Whedon’s Dollhouse on Hulu, a drama in which the heroine Echo’s memories are regularly expunged and recreated by a secret organization. The process allows Echo to forget painful experiences in her past. But in forgetting life’s most painful lessons, she loses knowledge that could help prevent future tragic occurrences. Then today I read this article from the BBC about how a heart medication could suppress the emotional intensity of memories, allowing people to blunt traumatic effects of the past. The parallel struck me immediately, and it made me wonder: How should we help individuals cope with past trauma?

Six years into the Iraq War, we have no shortage of citizens suffering from traumatic experiences: war zone conflicts, the death of loved ones, job loss, and home foreclosure. Some people have been so affected that their everyday quality of life has declined dramatically, and perhaps for individuals, starting over with a clean emotional slate would seem a blessing. Imagine for a moment that it were possible to push a giant reset button on the collective American psyche, that with the aid of a little pill, we could wipe out all our past suffering and look into the future with vision uncolored by experience. Imagine that happened right before the 2008 election.

Tell me, exactly which lessons are best forgotten?

I enjoy good food, and as readers of my blog know, I enjoy reliving good food by writing about it. But what happens when a meal at a restaurant disappoints? Do I write nothing, so that the offender gets zero publicity from me? Do I write a short warning, so that others don’t waste their time? Or do I go through each and every single horror in excoriating detail, so that the burnt and bitter essence of the experience is seared into memory forever? Well, sometimes the third option can be quite entertaining, as demonstrated in this scathingly hilarious review of Ayurveda Cafe on the Upper West Side. Hats off to the reviewers, who made my day and saved countless New Yorkers from a potentially awful dining experience.

Posted via web from corinna’s posterous

I remember walking down the street in recent years and catching a distinctive yet inexplicable whiff of something like donuts or maple syrup. In the era post 9/11, mysterious smells in New York can be a cause for alarm, and plenty of people called in to report this one. After the city did its own testing and assured the public that the air was safe, people started joking about the odors drifting across the Hudson from New Jersey. Turns out they were right!

Whenever I’m in New York City’s Chinatown, I can’t resist stopping by Tai Pan Bakery for one of their soft and sweet raisin twist breads. The bakery is easy to find, right on Canal Street between Mulberry and Mott, with purple lettering in the window and a constantly shifting sea of people inside. Don’t be intimidated by the crowds – they are a good assurance that turnover is high and what you’re getting is fresh. With nimble determination, weave your way  to the bread section in the back, being sure to check out the pastries in the counter along the way. Once you’ve reached the plastic bins along the back wall, stare hungrily at the piles of pork buns, raisin twists, and coconut buns, and one of the employees with metal tongs will approach to ask you what you want.

They will place your bread selections on a tray and set it on the end of the pastry counter. Keep your eye on this tray from now on until you pay, as it will move down the counter seemingly of its own accord if your gaze wanders for even an instant. If possible, stand directly in front of your tray and follow it as it makes its way towards the cash register at the far end. It may seem not to move for a while, but have faith, and it will get there eventually. As you wait, you may become distracted by sponge cakes or savory puff pastries behind the glass in the counter. This is the perfect time to practice checking out the goodies with one eye while keeping the other glued to your tray. It’s a subtle art, but one worth perfecting. At any point between the time the person with tongs asks you what you want and the time you pay, either the initial employee or a different one behind the counter will ask you if you want anything else. They will only ask you this once, and if you want anything else in the bakery – including the pastries behind the glass – now is the time to say so.

Once your tray is loaded with everything you want, you can hang out by the register while your tray makes it way to you. This gives other patrons the opportunity to view the counter items and minimizes the chance you will get squashed. Pay with cash, escape the crush, and enjoy your bakery treats!